


A Monster by any other Name.

by dalildevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU Season 12, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9329894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalildevil/pseuds/dalildevil
Summary: What if Lady Bevell had been state side longer than she let on.  What if Sam was not the only person she and the other members of the British Men of Letters had kept captive in the warded house in Aldrich, Missouri.  In this 3rd person POV story we see that sometimes the Monster isn't always a Monster.





	1. The New Guy

Carissa watched from the small barred window in her cell as they brought in yet another prisoner she sighed sadly she knew all too well what he was in for. She’d seen it so many times before. This one though was big. It took two of the guards to carry his limp body in. She could tell from where she stood that he had been bleeding though it seemed it had been cleaned up. But he was unconscious so they’d incapacitated him in some other fashion. His long hair obscured his face but she could tell his eyes were closed. She craned her neck as they moved him just out of her line of sight she could hear the scraping of a chair as it was pulled into place and then the clanging of chains and the metal clicks as the cuffs were slipped presumably around his wrists to secure him to chains. More shuffling and the muffled sound of something being tossed against the wall in a corner and then she heard the heavy metal doors clang shut and then it was quiet again. 

She waited and watched for a long time listening to see if the man would say anything or try to wriggle out of his bonds and she sighed softly with slight relief. Can’t torture someone while they’re unconscious, Right? She moved to sit on the edge of the bare mattress of the cot that served as her bed. Her cell contained nothing more than the small cot, a little sink and a toilet bowl. On the floor by the door there was a plastic tray which had earlier contained her meal for the day. Today it had been a simple tomato and lettuce sandwich. But at least it was food and she was grateful for it. Even though it was nowhere near enough to keep her strong it at least kept her alive. She was also provided with a cup that she could refill with water from the sink. Glamorous wasn’t it?

Carissa had lost track of how long she’d been held prisoner here. All the days seemed to melt into one. Most of the time she was left alone anymore, though it hadn’t always been the case. This is why she knew what this poor soul was in for. Several months before she’d been the one dragged into that room and bound to a chair. Over the past months there had been several others dragged into that room. She’d seen them all come in. She didn’t know where they had all gone. At least those that lived. Or at least she assumed they had lived. She’d seen many simply die and be discarded. As far as she knew that’s what these people did. They brought in people for questioning and they either spilled their guts or they, well spilled their guts.

The girl lifted her violet colored eyes when she heard a soft moan coming from the other side of the door. The man, the tall man they had brought in seemed to be coming to. She stood up and moved quickly to the door and peered out. She could just make out his silhouette if she stood on her tip toes and craned her neck. He was wearing bloodied jeans and a grey button down shirt that she could see. When he lifted his head she saw the side of his face, he had high cheekbones and his eyes were bright. There was a deep intelligence in them. She could see he was struggling against the chains his arms had been bound behind him, and each leg had been secured to a leg of the chair. The chains were secured to the concrete floor so even if he did manage to wriggle out of the chair there was no way he was breaking those chains. He had been gagged when they first brought him in but it seemed the gag had been removed. She supposed they wanted to hear him when he awoke. His eyes were fiery with anger as he struggled. She wanted to tell him to stop, to not make any noise, to not garner their attention but it was too late she whimpered as she heard the metal door creak open. Too late, she thought. He’s in for it now. Her stomach churned she hated it. She hated that she bore witness to all of it. She crossed the floor from the door to her little cot and curled up in a little ball upon it already anticipating the screams to come. She held her head between her hands as though it would shield her and she closed her eyes.


	2. Where the nightmare began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back to how Carissa ended up in the hands of the Men of Letters.

Several months before Carissa had been at home. She’d not ventured out very often since her husband died. She was still in mourning. Carissa was a young woman in her late 20s. She was small in stature, lean but muscular in the days where she cared about what she looked like she would have been quite beautiful. She had had long flowing dark hair that would be as soft as silk. Although today it was a tangled mess of towel dried wire. Her usually bright violet eyes were darkened and sunken and rimmed with red and tears from too much wine and not enough sleep mixed with long hours she’d spent crying. 

A few weeks before there had been an accident. Her husband had passed away suddenly. The official cause of death was a brain hemorrhage but Carissa knew better. Sure, Francis had died of a brain hemorrhage but what the ME didn’t know was, it had her fault. She’d done it. She’d caused it and she felt awful about it. It was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to die. Not like this. He had trusted her and she’d lost control. 

That weekend started out like a dream. Frank was such a sweetheart. For their first anniversary he’d planned the perfect night. He’d been saving up for it for months. He had taken her to New-York City he’d made reservation at one of the most prestigious hotels, The Standard High Line. They had been on the 18th floor and the view over the Hudson had been amazing. Carissa was amazed that Frank had organized this for them. She knew it was the trip of a lifetime, they weren’t millionaires after all and this was absolutely wonderful. Even if they only had the one night in the hotel it was more than she could ever ask for. He had made things so special. He’d ordered her favorite meal to be brought up to the room. He’d had chocolate covered strawberries and champagne in the hot tub. They had gone to Broadway to see a musical and it had been magical and perfect in every way and when they got back to the hotel they spent time in each other arms talking and watching the boats going up and down the river, then he had given her a massage and things had progressed nicely. 

Carissa had probably had a little more champagne than she should have. Alcohol was not something that she metabolized very well, it was one of her weaknesses actually but she trusted her husband and she knew that he would take care of her. He always had. But she didn’t have all her head and when they made love and she began feeding from him drawing from him the life giving vitae she took too much. It was just too wonderful, too perfect and the absolute apex of their absolutely phenomenal night and she’d just let herself go a little too far, lost track of how much she was drawing from him in the throes of their ecstasy. She didn’t even realize how much she was taking from him until she could not feel him writhing under her weight anymore, only then did she realize something was wrong. She could still see his slack jaw, and the way his empty gaze stared up at her as she tried to revive him. The rest of the night had been a blur. She knew that she must have screamed because people had come knocking at the door and it had been opened by the manager. She had done this. She’d killed her husband although no one blamed her, and they all tried comforting her as she rocked herself in one of the high backed winged chairs in the room, wrapped in one of the plush robes furnished by the hotel. She was shaking and sobbing and softly repeating over and over. “I did this, I killed him”. But even the authorities had classified it an accident and she was cleared of any wrong doing. But she knew better and weeks down the line she was still beating herself up about it and still mourning her husband’s loss.

That morning when she’d awoken from yet another wine induced stupor she had dragged herself into the bathroom to shower and she forced herself to dress and eat something though she really didn’t have the heart for any of it she was sitting in the window seat staring out the window blankly her still untouched cup of cold coffee in her hand when a team of what she could only surmise were military men came running into her living room demanding she get on her knees and put her hands up. She screamed and jumped up, dropping her cup in the process.

_-Who are you? What do you want?_

These questions were met with a blow to the side of the head with the blunt end of a gun and the world went grey and then black as she fell onto her side.  
When Carissa came to she found herself bound, gagged and blindfolded in the back of a vehicle speeding down what she could only guess was the freeway panicking she squirmed and struggled and screamed through her gag only for a rough hand to grab her by the hair and pull her head up.

_-If you know what’s good for you bitch you’ll shut up and quit fighting._

A deep and sandy British voice spit at her with such venom and hate it froze the blood in her veins. Who where these people and what did they want with her. She had nothing, what had they kidnapped her? She wasn’t rich, neither was her husband why were they holding her, where were they taking her? Her head was spinning with all these questions as she shivered and cried softly.


	3. Conversations in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finds out he's not alone in that cellar after all. Someone's been watching, listening and maybe trying to help.

It was dark now. Carissa could see through the cracks in the boarded up window of her cell that there was no more light coming from the outside. Her little cell was always dark but it was darkness deep as hell when night fell. That’s when she could hear everything too keenly, creaking of the ceiling when they moved on the floor above. The droplets of water that kept dripping from the hose line onto the concrete floor. She could even hear the rats in the wall. But it was the labored breathing of the man on the other side of the door; whose name she now knew was Sam, which was keeping her awake right now. Those awful women who kept both her and this young man prisoner had spent the day putting him through what they called “enhanced interrogation”. In other words they were torturing the poor man, and Carissa was just behind the thin wall witness to it all. She had started out watching through the slats of the metal door, hoping that he would speak, that he would not let this proceed, but he was stubborn. The one named Watt, she had gone to town while the other watched and in that prickly tone continued to ask the same questions over and over which he refused to answer. _“Screw You”_ his answer was, again and again. And the more he refused to cooperate, the higher up they would turn up the heat. Came a point where Carissa could not watch anymore. She’d curled up on her bed and closed her eyes and covered her ears but she couldn’t stop neither the screams of agony from reaching her, nor the smell of scorched flesh from aggressing her senses. They would deal another blow she would flinch remember all too well her own bones cracking. Why wasn’t he cooperating? How was he still coherent enough to be defiant? 

He had passed out several hours ago but Carissa could still smell the lingering scent of burnt human flesh on the air it was nauseating but in the darkness she could tell he was starting to wake up his labored breathing had quickened from the slow rhythmic pace it had been while he was unconscious soon he’d be struggling to get free of his bonds again. Carissa slipped off of her little cot and her bare feet padded upon the concrete floor towards the door where she leaned up to peer though the slats once more. Sure enough, in the gloom she could see that he was awake and looking around his keen mind working to find a way out of this mess. She licked her lips and spoke softly her voice raspy from lack of use. She hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to anyone in God knows how long. 

_-“Don’t struggle. That’ll just bring them back down here”_

On the other side of the door Sam’s head was starting to clear. He must have passed out and they’d left him to lick his wounds so to speak. But now as he was coming to he felt his head swimming as the memories of the day came back to him. He groaned his whole body was hurting. His head was throbbing and his stomach growling, when was the last time he’d had anything to eat? Breakfast! Chuck had made pancakes. That was the last thing he remembered eating. How long ago was that now, 2, 3 days. He couldn’t tell it could be longer. He didn’t really have any time reference in this place. His head snapped up when he hear the soft raspy voice coming from a locked door in the corner.

_-“Hello? Who’s there?”_

Carissa swallowed hard when he addressed her. Should she answer? Was it a good idea to befriend him? She knew if he didn’t start cooperating they’d come for her. They always did. She was their tool their means to an end. 

_-“Is someone back there?”_

She licked her lip when his voice came again and drew a breath and spoke again. Softly. 

_-“Yeah! I’m here. Behind the door. It’s night now, they’re gone. But don’t make too much noise or they’ll come back.”_

She watched as he craned his neck to try and see her. It was too dark in her cell for him to see anything and there was not enough light coming from the main room to let him see her face through the little bared window.

Sam, wasn’t sure if having someone here with him was a good thing or a bad thing. His instincts were confused now. All along he’d believed he was on his own. Dean was dead, Castiel blasted away. Heaven only knew what happened to Chuck and Amara and Crowley well, he wouldn’t give a damn about what happened to him anyway. Probably quite happy to be rid of him. The feeling was mutual to be honest. Even if he did hate to admit it, the demon would be an asset right now. Not that this place wasn’t warded up the wazoo. And Rowena, well knowing her she probably fled the moment she saw her chance. All this time Sam figured he had nothing to lose. He wasn’t giving up anything, these British bitches could do their worst they weren’t getting anything out of him. But now. There was someone else here. And the old family motto came back into mind. “Saving people”. How was that going to figure into this. It’s not like he could let them do this to someone else. He could take it. He had taken it, and a lot worse but if there was someone else here that changed the dynamic now didn’t it?

_-“Who are you?”_

_-“me? I’m no one”_

That irritated Sam a little. Couldn’t he get a straight answer? Carissa could see his expression and she sighed softly, she hadn’t meant to piss him off. It’s just the way she felt. She’d been here for God knows how long and it wasn’t like these women of letters were making it easy on her to believe that she was anything else than “no one” either. But she spoke again softly; still craning her neck so she could see him better.

_-“My name is Carissa. I’m just another prisoner. I’m really sorry for all this; for what they are doing. No one deserves that.”_

She lowered her gaze and drew in a shaky breath. She’d been through the ringer herself but nothing like this. Though some might think it was worse. She wrapped her arms around herself as a chill traveled down her spine; though it wasn’t cold it just felt like all the warmth that had ever existed was stolen away from her.

Sam cocked his head as he took in the soft voice on the other side of the door. He couldn’t help feeling some compassion for the girl. He didn’t know what she’d been through but if it was anything like what these women were doing to him. He could now understand her earlier answer to his question. He knew what it felt like to lose your identity, your sense of self. He’d been there before. Yet here she was showing him compassion despite of it.

_-“You don’t owe me any apology. This isn’t your fault. How long have you been here?”_

Carissa lifted her gaze again to the slits in the steel door. She could see now that he was rather handsome. He had a strong chin and high cheekbones but it was his eyes that got to her. Even in the darkness she could see they seemed to radiate light. They were keen and full of intelligence and life. She hated that they would take that light away. And they would. They always did. Everyone broke. Although she’d never seen anyone withstand so much and not break. She’d even heard one of them make a comment about it earlier. She also never seen these women turn up the heat so high, so fast. What was so special about this one? She wondered. 

_-“I don’t know. I’ve lost all sense of time. Weeks, months. I, i…i can’t tell anymore.”_

She drew a shaky breath watching him still trying to struggle out of the chains that bound him to the chair. She could see he was strong not only physically but mentally as well. She knew he could hold head with them for days maybe longer and she really hated that she knew what was coming for him. Especially now that she knew he was no monster. He was human, he was one of them. She couldn’t understand why the Men of Letters would go after one of their own, and so viciously too.

_-“Can I give you a little piece of advice? Just give them what they want. Don’t be stubborn. Please. They’ll get what they want from you anyway. They always do. The will break you, they break every one, or they’ll kill you in the process.”_

The hunter looked up again as she spoke, straining to see the woman behind the door, to catch only a glimpse of her. Her voice was haunted and so sad. Sam knew instantly that she was speaking from experience. He knew from her tone from the way she spoke so tenderly and kindly to him that she too had broken, he only wondered what they’d wanted from her and why she was still here.

_-“I can’t Carissa; I won’t condemn anyone else to this.”_

Sam smiled, though he couldn’t tell if she could see him or not, but he kept his eye on the locked door from hence the voice came from.

_-“besides, I’ve had worse: Much worse.”_

The lights came on then and Carissa shuddered and covered her mouth to keep from making a sound and she sank against the wall, crouching down. They knew he was awake, they were coming back, oh God! No! She could hear the thudding of the blond one’s heals on the stairs as she made her way down and she shivered. That one had never laid a finger on her, yet she scared her most of all. There was just something wrong about her, something that just made her seem heartless, so cold. The only time she’d seen any kind of tenderness from that woman was when she spoke to her son on the phone. 

As she cowered in the darkness she listened. She wondered what they would do now. What other horrors would they put this young man through? But all she heard were the same questions again. 

_-“You’re going to give me all the names of all the hunters that you know, their hangouts, drop-offs and the pass codes for the databases in the bunker”_

_-“Listen Lady, Nothing’s changed. I’m not giving you anything and you, can go screw yourself”_

She could hear the venom and the defiance in his voice. It was almost arrogance. Almost like he knew for sure, for certain that they’d not break him. Carissa, on the other hand, winced and braced herself for what she knew was coming. That muffled thump of a blunt object against flesh and bone, and sure enough there it was. She heard something solid make contact against his body. From the sharp exhale she could only surmise that he’d been hit in the gut and he drew a sharp breath. Carissa’s hearing was so keen even from her crouched position in her cell she could visualize everything that was going on. He’d be staring down his assailants. That determined and angry glare in his eyes. This was confirmed with the sound of the blond one’s voice that thick British accent flowing off her lips like velvet.

_-“Come on Sam, Why don’t you make it easy on yourself and just tell me what I want know. I’ve already promised you could walk right out that door. You have my word”_

Through clenched teeth Sam spit out his response to her. Carissa could almost hear the way his teeth were grinding together in anger.

_-“Go screw yourself!”_

She could hear the deep sigh that escaped Lady Bevell’s lips and the click of her heals as she started up the stairs again.

_-“Suit yourself”_

This was followed by a flurry of hits and grunts. Carissa wrapped her arms around her knees as he sat in the corner of her cell behind the door rocking, a growing pit in her stomach as tears streamed down her face. Why wasn’t he cooperating? Why was he so stubborn? She could hear the other one bashing some kind of blunt object against him and his screams as she would focus on already injured areas. His leg and his foot and she knew she could hear ribs cracking under the blows. With every blow she would jump and shudder, her head lowered against her knees trying to keep her own whimpers silent. The last thing she wanted was to remind them that she was still here. Or to show them that she cared. But they probably already knew that didn’t they? The little red light in the corner of her cell blinking away in the darkness showed them everything they needed to know. 

This session did not last as long as the previous one. Seemed Ms Watt had exhausted herself quickly this time though it was late both would likely want to get some rest. Or conjure up some other kind of torture. She could hear her booted feet stomping up the stairs and she stood when the lights went out again. Standing on her tip toes again to look through the bars of her cell.

_-“Sam? …..Sam?”_

No answer, one of those blows must have been to his head, she could see that he was slumped forward his hair once again covered his face but in the gloom she could see there was blood dripping from beneath the long locks, his body was contorted painful, his arms straining against the chains that bonded him to the chair. He was out for the count.


	4. Why him?  He's one of you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carissa is reminded of what her place is. And that she should not question her role.

It was daytime when Carissa woke up. She found herself curled up on the floor behind the door where she’d hidden the night before. There had been little to no noise after Watt left. But now she could hear talking. It was her, the blond one. She was questioning him again and he was talking. Though Carissa couldn’t make out what he was saying, his words were slurred. Oh no, they had drugged him. He was talking because he wasn’t aware, he was talking. She stood up, quietly and peered through the bars of the steel door that separated her from them and she could see him sitting in the chair, still bound, he had a pleasant expression, his eyes were closed and were twitching just as though he was dreaming and it didn’t take her long to realize what spell had been used and she winced.

That meant if Lady Bevel didn’t get all the information she wanted from him. That meant they were going to come for her soon. She watched a little longer and saw him raise his head, his eyes fluttering open and the glaze dropping from them and instantly that defiant determination was back. She watched as Lady Bevel got up and circled around him she had a knife. Carissa was surprised by that, she had never seen this one get her hands dirty before. Why was she doing so now? She kept watching, silently, flinching every time the silver blade came down and sliced into Sam’s tanned skin. Eventually, he was out again, presumably from a combination of trauma, exhaustion and the drugs still in his system. 

It was about an hour before Carissa heard any movement. But it came from upstairs. She could hear Lady Bevel talking, though she couldn’t make out what she was saying it was when she heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs she knew and she felt her heart jump into her throat and she swallowed hard. Outside her cell she heard Sam’s voice

_-“what’s this now. Couldn’t do the job herself, she hired muscle?”_

One of the men grunted back at him as he moved to pick up the hose attachment from the sink. His gruff voice also sporting a British accent

_-“We’re not here for you. Not yet anyway”_

The other smaller gentleman was already unlocking her door before the first moved towards the door after having attached the nozzle to the hose.

_-“Hey! No! You leave her alone; she has nothing to do with this.”_

Sam struggled in his chair pulling on his bonds although the chair or bonds didn’t budge; his eyes were burning with anger as he struggled.

_-“Aw would you look at that Gerald, I think he likes the little nymph”_

The bigger man cackled as he made his way into the room and regarded Carissa who had moved off the bed and into the far corner of the cell. Her arms wrapped around her knees she was already trembling.

_-“You know the drill. Stand up and strip down it’s time to clean up.”_

_-“No, Please. Not this time. Not this one. Please.”_

Carissa implored with the men, although she knew they were only following orders and they were not the ones she needed to convince that she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t violate him. She wouldn’t.

_-“Please, Tell Lady Bevel, I can’t. Not him. Please, please don’t make me. Please.”_

The men looked at each other confused. This was the first time Carissa had refused to do her job, had pleaded not to, had come back on their deal.

_-“You really don’t want us to get Lady Bevel. You know what you have to do, or you know what will happen. You want to go back to the way it was before nymph?”_

Carissa shuddered, no, she absolutely didn’t want to go back to the way it was before. She sobbed in her hands, hot bitter tears

Outside the room Sam could hear everything. Though it didn’t make much sense to him what he was hearing he knew that it was nothing good. He could hear Carissa pleading not to be made to do something, something to him? Do what? Why? She was just another prisoner. He called out

_-“Leave her alone. Leave her out of this”_

Heels clicked down the stairs and Sam lifted his gaze towards Lady Bevel as she descended the stairs with a self satisfied smile upon her lips as she looked back at Sam.

_-“Are you ready to talk yet Sam? Are you ready to answer my questions?”_

Sam growled. No he wasn’t about to give up any information. Not now, not ever. Even as she came over and traced her perfectly manicured finger down the side of his face and under his chin lifting his gaze up to hers, he grinded his teeth and spit right in her face.

_-“I’ll take that as a no. Shame. I thought we had made good progress earlier Sam. Oh well. I’m not worried. You’ll answer my questions, sooner or later”_

She then walked towards the cell and let herself in. Carissa still in the corner hadn’t moved since the men had entered. Now, seeing Lady Bevel walk in she moved uncurling her small body from herself and falling onto her knees her violet eyes filled with tears as she looked up at the Woman of Letters.

_-“Please, Lady Bevel, I beg you. Don’t make me do this. Not to him. That wasn’t our deal. Please. You said only monsters. He’s human. He’s one of yours. Please”_

Lady Bevel’s cold gaze became colder as Carissa spoke of Sam as being one of theirs. Sam was no more a Man of Letters than any of those monsters that he failed to kill. In her eyes he was no better than any of them. Worse even.

_-“You’ll do your part or I’ll be force to go back on our deal Carissa. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?”_

Carissa whimpered audibly as Toni confirmed her worse nightmare. If she didn’t do it, if she didn’t go through with it then her own torturers would return again and again. She lowered her head and drew a shaky breath before standing and turning her back, removing the nightgown she had been wearing and tossing it to the floor. 

_-“That’s a good girl”_

Nodding to her associates Lady Bevel left the cell and made her way back towards the stairs. Not before being stared down by Sam who was still furiously trying to undo his bonds. Toni barely even looked at him as she made her way back upstairs.  
Back inside the room Carissa was having a shower so to speak. The gentleman with the hose was spraying her down and she was actually cleaning herself, shampooing and conditioning her hair and washing dirt and grime off her body. They even provided her with a razor they always did before they needed her “services”. You wouldn’t believe how many times she’d wanted to slice her veins with it. Though that wouldn’t do her any good anyway. She’d just heal. When she was clean they provided her with a clean nightgown which she slipped on over her still wet and shivering body. They left the cell carrying her dirty nightgown with them and set the hose back in the sink where it had previously been. Carissa stood shivering in her cell staring at the closed door dreading when it would open again.

It didn’t take long for that to happen. The door opened and Carissa looked up to see the taller of the two men walk in again and bid her come forward and she closed her eyes and winced. Shaking her head tears still rolling down her cheeks. Looking up again imploring with him to let it go. To move on. To leave her out of this one.

_-“Please don’t make me do this. Anyone but him. Please. I don’t want to hurt him. I’m afraid, I’ll kill him. Just like Frank. Please.”_

She sobbed softly, backed up as far as she could against the far wall, trembling both from fear and cold since she was still wet from her improvised shower. Her heart literally broken as she thought back to the last human she’d used her powers on. The one time she’d lost control and lost everything she’d ever had, ever loved or cared for. Lost everything but her life, though there wasn’t a day where she didn’t wish her life had ended that day in New York. And now, now they wanted her to do what she did. Do what she’d promised she’d do to end her torture. For the first time since she’d made that deal she wished she hadn’t. 

_-“You’re going to do what you’re told. You don’t have a choice in that matter. You never did. Now Go. Don’t make me collar you!!”_

He lifted the brass collar; it would fit perfectly around her slender neck, burning the flesh as it did. They’d used it on her at first to keep her in control, and they always had it on hand as a threat. Though they’d never had to use it again on her. It was branded with some powerful magic. It not only kept her in check, not letting her use and strength she gathered while feeding. But it also took away her free will and made her completely submissive to their whim. She feared it, it hurt. Not only physically, but emotionally, and psychologically. It left scars that would never fade. Some would argue she didn’t have a soul being she wasn’t human. But she felt it in her core felt as though it dug inside her and ripped and tore and flayed her alive. It left her broken in ways she couldn’t explain.

Carissa lifted her gaze and spotted the collar and her eyes widened and she whimpered and looked up as though imploring heaven to for help. Though heaven was deaf to her prayers. It always had been. Not that she truly believed there was anyone up there that could help. She was unaware of the real existence of Angels, or God. She wasn’t a fighter, she wasn’t strong, she’d never resisted very long. Why was it different this time? Why did she feel so strongly about this one? Was it because he was human? Was it really because she feared taking his life? She felt an overwhelming need to protect him and it wasn’t going to end well.  
She turned her back and shook her head. Hoping beyond hope that they would change their minds that they would just walk away and leave her out of this. But she heard the man behind her sigh and his heavy footsteps close behind her and her heart sank. She felt his fingers roughly grasp her hair and pull her head back and then the feeling of white hot metal around her neck as he installed the collar and she screamed.

_-“Be quiet and do your job”_

He growled at her and stepped away and the second the words left his lips her scream stopped. It was like the scream had been ripped right from her throat and silenced. She tried to fight it. But she could feel it taking hold like strings wrapping around her limbs and though she fought it, her will was gone. The only thing that was left was to obey.

The man left the little cell and he smiled at Sam as he walked out and up the stairs locking the door behind him as he left. Sam looked at him defiantly and his gaze darted towards the door of the cell which had been left open.

_-“What did you do? What did you do to her? Carissa!! Carissa, answer me.”_


	5. Doing The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *explicit content in this chapter*. Carissa, must now let Sam see what she is and what she does. The reason why she is kept prisoner by the Men of Letter. Her nature had betrayed her in the past. Will it do so again?

Carissa heard him calling for her, asking her to answer. She was already moving towards the door she had no choice it was like her body was moving of its own volition. She moved to the door and exited the little cell. She was very petite; her long dark hair was still wet from the earlier hose down and was clinging to her shoulders. She was a slip of a girl. In her prime, at her best she would have been stunning. Her gaze was low as she stepped into the room, Sam turned his gaze towards her as her movements caught his attention and he spoke to her.

_-“Carissa? Are you ok? Are you hurt? Please, say something. Carissa?”_

Carissa looked up when Sam spoke to her. Her heart sank. He was worried about her. He cared whether or not she was hurt and she was about to take something from him he’d never offered. She hated herself for it. As she lifted her head her violet eyes would stare into Sam’s beautiful hazel gaze and as a tear rolled down her pale cheek, her lips quivered as she spoke softly to him.

_-“I’m so sorry Sam, I, I, I have no choice. Please forgive me.”_

She winced visibly, it was the collar, because she was stalling its magic was burning into her. But then her silent footsteps took her right to his side and she reached up with her small hand and gently brushed his hair off his face.

_-“Forgive you? For what? You haven’t….”_

He didn’t finish his sentence she held his face gently between both her hands, his confused look boring into her as she leaned in and pressed her soft lips against his. It was a gentle almost tentative kiss but one that was laced with poison. Oh it wouldn’t kill him. Nor would it cause him any physical pain but the poison would mess with his will. Would make him compliant, would make him easy to manipulate. It would also serve to stimulate the pleasure centers in him brain which was usually what she used it for. Before. Before she was brought here. Before she became a tool, a weapon. But it was too late to think about that now. Now, she had to do what she was told. She moved slowly around him circling around his chair. Sam’s eyes followed her. A glazed look appeared in his eyes as he licked his lip drawing in the poison. She reached down and pulled his button down shirt over his shoulders and down his arms that were still bound behind him and leaned in over his shoulder and drew her lips down his neck and then circled back to face him. Her eyes flared a bright violet as she could already taste the sexual energy rising within him. Her breath caught as he caught her gaze once more his eyes burning with desire this time. She saw it, and she couldn’t help be taken in by it. Again her fingers drew through his long locks and down the nape of his neck where she grasped the collar of his ripped t-shirt and tore it completely off his form. 

As she exposed his beautifully chiseled chest and strong shoulders she took heed of the many bruises and cuts and some latent scars, some more recent than others. But she couldn’t help marvel at the work of art that was Sam Winchester. She leaned in again, and stole yet another kiss from his lips, this time a slightly more passionate one. She was already absorbing the ambient sexual energy in the room and the more she drew the more enraptured she became, the more intoxicated she became; to the point where she wouldn’t be able to stop herself if she wanted to. She let her delicate fingers brush down over his firm shoulders and arms and let her lips travel down over his jawbone and his neck leaving soft little wet kisses as she moved. She drew a line across his collar bone with her tongue drawing a low groan from Sam’s lips and she looked up at him with a grin as he swallowed hard and drew in a sharp breath. She could feel his heart pounding in that strong chest as her fingers caressed the skin there. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her as he started to squirm on his chair. She’d lock gaze with him once more as she let her fingers tips dance across his chest and down those rock hard abs. My God, he had to be the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes upon. Leaning in once more her hot breath bathing his neck over his throat as she let her teeth rake across his skin moving down his chest she claimed one of his nipples in her hot mouth, letting he tongue lavish attention upon it before nipping at it, pinching it between her teeth, not too hard just enough to make him react. And he did. His body arched up and he groaned with pleasure. The drug she’d poisoned him with, activating and multiplying the sensations within him, making every touch, every nip and lick, and caress that much more pleasurable. Making him, that much more vulnerable.

She moved from one nipple to the other and then let he tongue travel down between the creases of his washboard abs, leaving more little bites and kisses as she moved downwards. Meanwhile, her nimble fingers had already made short work of his belt. Sam’s eyes had fluttered closed and his head had rolled back his breath coming in short shallow gasps and pleasure filled moans that she drank in like nectar from the gods. Squirming in his chair tugging on his bonds the sounds of metal chains clanging against the legs of the chair, Sam longed to reach out and grab hold of Carissa wanting more, the intensity of his lust and arousal mounting with every second. This did not leave Carissa cold; in fact it just cemented the desire within her own core, added oil to the fire that has been starving within her. She echoed Sam’s moans of pleasure as her lips traveled even further down his sculpted form, she slinked down to her knees and bit at his hip bone just as her fingers undid her button on his jeans and then the zipper as her teeth grasped at the flesh on his hip Sam’s hips bucked up and she tugged on the jeans pulling them down. As she did so she exposed the newly stitched bullet wound on his thigh a soft gasp parting her lips as she looked upon it. She had noticed cuts and bruises, but it hadn’t hit her just how injured he really was. 

Lady Toni had not gone easy on him. Sam had to be in massive amounts of pain yet he’d been more concerned about her earlier than himself. This made Carissa take pause for a second and she sobered up slightly. Enough to cause her to stumble back. She was fighting her own instincts, fighting the spell that caused the collar around her neck to tighten and burn into her skin. She cried out then and Sam looked down her as she’d shrunk back from him and sat on the floor at his feet, his breath still coming in shallow gasps, his voice heavy with lust as he spoke, his eyes still glazed over, drunk on the poison driving pleasure and lust coursing through his veins.

_-“Carissa? Please don’t stop.”_

Carissa looked up at Sam, his eyes were filled with a burning desire she knew was manufactured. She caught herself wishing it were real. She closed her eyes and drew a breath as the collar around her neck seemed to tighten again the brass burning into her flesh compelling her to go on. Pulling herself up onto her knees she moved towards him once more. Her violet gaze locked upon his. The wells of light in his illuminating his eyes seemed to make them refract light of different colors, she saw blues and greens and gold she could drown in his eyes and she hated herself for it. Letting herself care for this man was something she could not allow herself to do. It would kill her in the end. 

Letting her eyes drift down his bared chest she bit her lip and then let her fingers travel up his parted thighs careful not to brush the wound on his leg as she grasped at the waist band of his boxer briefs and she lifted her gaze to his once more and he responded by lifting his hips. She was shaking. Why was she shaking? She’d done this countless times before. He was just another prisoner, just another mark in the Men of Letters’ interrogation log. Or so she tried to convince herself, but it wasn’t working. She had a pit in her stomach unlike she’d never had before when she’d drugged others with her poisoned kiss. Sam sighed softly, his head rolling back as she freed his already hardened manhood, she lowered her gaze and let her hands travel back up his thighs and she grasped his member between her fingers, she could feel his pulse throbbing against her thumb as it brushed against the underside. A soft gasp parted his lips as she began to manipulate and stroke his length slowly. She then leaned in and wrapped her lips upon the head her tongue swirling around the tip before she let her head start to move up and down taking in more and more with every bob of the head. Sam moaned his breath hitching as she teased his senses with her expert mouth. 

She pressed her tongue against the pulsating vein on the underside of his cock and lifted her violet gaze to his face watching as his eyes rolled back with pleasure as she swallowed more and more of his length her fingers cupping his balls and kneading them gently coaxing more low guttural groans from his parted lips. His chest was heaving up as he drew breath she could feel him straining against his bonds. His tanned flesh now spotted with droplets of sweat making his skin glisten in the low light. God he was so beautiful. Even bruised, beaten, burnt and scarred he seemed to illuminate the room. She could feel him tensing already as she removed her lips from him and kissed a line up his chest slipping up into his lap, and lacing her arms around his neck to claim his lips in a long and deep kiss. He returned it with an almost wanton need slipping his tongue into her mouth, tasting his own precome on her lips. 

She slipped her hand down his chest between them and grasped his erect member and guided him to her slick heated lips and eased herself upon him. Closing her eyes and letting her head roll back with a soft gasp as she felt his thickness pressing inside. Her muscles clenching around the invading girth bringing yet another low pleasure filled groan from his lips as he leaned up as much as he could and pressed them against her upturned neck dragging his teeth upon her flesh. Her eyes fluttered open as he did so. Even in his diminished condition he was showing her some of his natural dominance which was surprising. Normally once she’d dosed them her “victims” became very passive and that was what Lady Toni wanted. Passive, malleable, suggestible. She swallowed hard and felt her heart flutter as she began to move her body up and down. Feeling his length slither deep within her heated core as she did so and her movements became more feverish as she fed off his reactions literally and figuratively. She could feel his sexual energy flowing off him in waves as she drew it into herself, she rocked her hips, squeezing her muscles as she moved, drawing louder moans from him as he grew closer and closer to his climax. She felt her own stomach twitch, her mouth watering as she also moved closer and closer to the edge of the abyss. Again, this surprised her, in all the time she’d been here, a prisoner of Lady Toni and the Men of Letters. In all the times she’d claimed sexual energy from their other prisoners, never had she felt herself reach orgasm. It was a means to an end. She’d always been just the tool, the weapon used to weaken the prey. She’d never taken any pleasure in it, beyond being able to feed . But this time was different somehow. She’d felt something. She’d let her guard down. 

His voice rose in time with her thrusts, as she drove down and drew back up again and again, her hands splayed upon his chest for leverage and she felt him bucking up against her despite the confines of his bonds. She heard her name spilling from his lips in a loud cry as she felt his orgasm erupt inside her and she leaned in and captured his lips in a bruising kiss drawing every last drop of the sexual life force from him and she felt her own body shuddering against him, her muscles spasming around his still throbbing cock as she reached her own climax. She fed from his lips, letting the moment pass and she felt his body go limp beneath her. She knew she’d taken enough and broke the kiss. His eyes were closed now and he looked peaceful, though his breath still came in shallow gasps for a moment, this too calmed and she extricated herself from his lap and gently redressed him. She’d be damned if she’d leave him exposed. She didn’t have much time she already heard them unlocking the door upstairs. She reached out with her hand and gently brushed her fingers upon his cheek and whispered softly before quickly returning to her little cell.

_-“I’m sorry”_


End file.
